Malaise, Misgivings, and the Management Thereof
by TrustTheCloak
Summary: A sharp crack split the air, and both boys stilled, eyes meeting with an identical expression of horror as they realized exactly what they were standing on.


**Gilan is eleven in this story.**

* * *

Gilan shielded his eyes for a moment, staring across the wide expanse of shining white snow. The knights had finished their hunt earlier than expected, prompting them to set up camp with quite a few hours of daylight left. Because of this, Gilan had jumped at the opportunity to wander the area a bit. Removing his hand, Gilan turned, a question on his lips. "Hey, Brian... which weapon is better, a sword or an ax?"

Brian, the sixteen-year-old son of one of his father's closest advisers, paused only for a moment at Gilan's question before confidently answering. "Sword, obviously. It's lighter and more maneuverable." Despite their age gap, the two had always gotten on well - when Gilan was smaller, he had somewhat idolized the older boy, and Brian smoothly slipped into almost an older brother role.

Gilan frowned at Brian's response and shook his head. "I just can't see a sword deflecting an ax very well. That "swinging it around" could easily split you in half."

"Maybe it would split _you_ in half, Twig," Brian jested with a smile. Gilan rolled his eyes and shoved Brian's shoulder.

"They'd go for you first. That big head of yours would be easy to aim for."

Brian grabbed his chest in a mock wounded gesture. "You wound me! And to think that you used to respect me..." A second later, Brian dropped the play-acting and threw an arm over Gilan's shoulder as they walked. "How're your classes? I can hardly believe you're set to be enrolled with MacNeil in the spring - training with MacNeil is already huge, and at your age? You're going places, kid."

Gilan stiffened slightly at Brian's innocent comments. "Yeah." Gilan's voice was flat. "I'm excited to train with MacNeil, but... classes are dull."

Brian gave a sympathetic smile. "They all start that way... I don't know, maybe they'll liven up after a while."

"Maybe." Gilan's tone suggested the very opposite, and Brian frowned, considering his young friend's downcast face.

"Hey, Gil... are you really wanting to be a knight? You don't have to, you know. I know it seems expected of you, but if you really hate what you're doing..."

Gilan gave a strange smile, one that Brian wasn't completely sure the meaning of, but didn't answer. Instead, Gilan gave the older boy a sideways glance and asked, "What are you going to do when you get older?"

With a wide smile, Brian answered, "I'll be a fine knight. Find myself a lovely lady and settle down, have some kids, have a little house with a white fence..." Brian trailed off, his eyes distant as if he were imagining this very scene and finding it wonderful.

Gilan smirked. "Settle down with Dana Beth, you mean?" the younger boy said slyly, referring to the young maid who waited tables at the inn... and who left Brian a red-faced, stuttering mess whenever she so much as smiled at him... which was rather a lot, actually. Maybe the idea wasn't as far fetched as Gilan had originally thought.

Brian swatted at Gilan's head, unable to keep the blush off his face. "Maybe I do mean that, brat."

With a bark of laughter, Gilan ducked out from Brian's reach, a quick burst of speed sending him forward and away before the boy turned around again, a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Brian was shaking his head at the younger boy before he abruptly paused, a sudden feeling of uneasiness filling him. "Say, Gilan, hold up a moment," he said slowly as he looking around, trying to pinpoint what had set him on edge.

A sharp crack split the air, and both boys stilled, eyes meeting with an identical expression of horror as they realized exactly what they were standing on.

The ice gave way, and with hardly time to give a yelp of fear, Gilan plummeted into the dark water. Brian froze for a moment, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at the hole where Gilan had just disappeared.

It was as Gilan came back into view, weakly splashing and gasping for air through cold-stalled lungs, that Brian finally shook himself out of his stupor.

"Gilan! Hang on, hang on..." Dropping down to the ice, Brian inched his way over to the dark hole as quickly as he dared.

Gilan was trying to pull himself up against the edges of the broken ice, but his hands kept slipping off the sides, sending him back into the dark water with splashes that left him sputtering. Brian tentatively put a hand in the water, recoiling for a moment at the sharp bite of cold, before thrusting both arms in to grasp the back of Gilan's jacket. Gathering himself, the older boy attempted to pull.

"C'mon, Gilan," Brian grunted, heaving without success on the younger boy's waterlogged figure. "Please, bud, I need you to try to push up."

To give Gilan credit, he was trying. He flailed sluggishly, but there was nothing to push up against, and the boy was already growing fatigued and confused from the cold. Brian understood this, but the realization made a sick feeling of dread settle over him. He wasn't strong enough to pull Gilan out alone.

Gilan slipped again, his head dipping under the water before he again emerged, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he coughed. Coming to a decision, Brian readjusted both his hands and his efforts. "Shh, just calm down," the boy soothed as he propped the boy's head against his arm to keep it out of the water. "Don't struggle, just settle down, you're okay."

Brian then angled his head towards the camp and threw up a small prayer that his voice would carry. "DAD! SIR DAVID! ANYONE, HELP!"

* * *

Sir David, Battlemaster of Caraway fief, and his senior adviser, Sir Albert, were setting up their tents when they heard it.

"Help!"

The pleading cry was distant, but David stiffened, immediately alerted. Beside him, Albert dropped his bedroll, his face drained of color.

"Brian," Albert said faintly. The next second, both men were running.

Another cry of help had Albert's gait quickening. "Brian! Hang on, son!" The worst part was the running blind, Albert thought as another plea floated through the air. He had no idea what they were running into; only that his son needed help... and if Brian needed help, then so did Gilan.

Easily keeping up with Albert's quickened run, David was also feeling a desperate surge of fear for his son. David hadn't thought to worry about letting Brian and Gilan leave to explore the area, but Brian's frantic screams - and Gilan's lack thereof - had David severely regretting his judgment.

Both men burst into a large clearing, David immediately recognizing it as a frozen, snow-covered lake. Towards the middle, Brian was visible, lying flat on his belly on the ice, his arms extended uncomfortably in front of him. Gilan was nowhere to be seen.

"Dad!" Brian called again, the relief evident in his tone. Carefully shifting his arms again, the boy continued hurriedly, "I need help... he's too heavy!"

David's stomach dropped like a stone. He couldn't see his son on the ice - because his son was _in _the ice.

Both men hastily began making their way across the ice towards the stricken boys, growing more cautious as they got closer. David could finally see Gilan now, clumsily splashing from the hole. The Battlemaster was unable to hold back a small noise of panic - clearly, Albert's son was the only thing keeping Gilan above the water.

Brian gave another murmur of comfort as Gilan flailed again. The younger boy's struggles were getting weaker, Brian noticed with concern. "He's really cold," the boy said needlessly as David and Albert got closer.

"Wait," Albert said suddenly, putting an arm across David's chest to halt his friend's purposeful strides. "We don't know how much this ice will hold; it's already broken once. We need to be careful with this."

David's face tightened, knowing the truth of his friend's words but hating them at the same time. Still, the Battlemaster took a deep breath, forcing himself to approach this calmly. "Albert's right. Brian, you have to move before I can go out there."

"No. I can't."

"This isn't an option. Move, Brian," Albert reiterated as his eyes roved up an down his son's prone figure, automatically searching for injuries.

Brian gave a growl of frustration, readjusting his grip as Gilan splashed again. "Settle down, Gil," Brian comforted in a strained tone before again directing his comments toward his father and David. "I _can't_. I'm keeping his head up - I don't think he can hold himself up on his own."

Albert swore, worriedly glancing at David. "What do we do?"

David gritted his teeth, forcing himself to make the decision. "It doesn't matter. If you don't move first, we might have three people in the ice instead of just one. Help him find a grip on something and try to make him understand that he needs to hold. We'll be quick, he can hang on that long." _He has to, _the Battlemaster thought fervently, trying very hard to not think about the alternative.

Brian made a noise of unhappiness before finally relenting. Squeezing Gilan's hand, the older boy tried to get his attention. "Gilan? Gilan, you need to hold on, okay?" As he said this, Brian firmly closed Gilan's fingers over the sharp edge of the ice. "Your dad is coming, but you _have to hold on_."

Brian thought he saw some flicker of understanding in Gilan's dim, half-mast eyes. With a deep breath, he gave Gilan's hand one last reassuring squeeze. "Almost there, bud." With that, Brian finally let go and began pushing himself towards the knights.

David was already sliding across the ice before Brian had even felt his father's strong arms around him, wrapping him a relieved embrace before moving to pull his wet coat off. Albert then deftly removed his own coat and put it around his shivering son, chafing the boy's cheek with a thumb before throwing an arm over him and drawing him tight.

The Battlemaster had almost covered the distance, close enough now that he could clearly make out Gilan's blue lips and the frozen tips of his hair. "Almost there, Gilly, that's my boy," the knight crooned. "Hang on a moment longer, love."

Gilan's head lolled, and David could see his grip loosening. "Almost, almost," he breathed, stretching his arm out.

Gilan's hand slipped... the same second that David grabbed a handful of sopping wet jacket and _pulled_.

A moment later, Gilan was sprawled on intact ice, his face grey. Gathering his limp child in his arms, David swiftly moved to where Albert and Brian anxiously waited. As the pair reached them, Albert wasted no time taking the semi-conscious boy, efficiently yanking off the soaked jacket and clothes and throwing them to the side. Gilan was barely even shivering anymore, Brian noted worriedly as David quickly removed his own overcoat and wrapped it tightly around his freezing son.

"We need to get him moving," David said firmly, an underlying rawness in his voice as he rested a hand on Gilan's icy blond hair. Wordlessly, Brian slipped off his hat and offered it the Battlemaster, who took it with a nod of thanks as he slipped it over Gilan's head.

"I'll run ahead and make sure the others have got a fire started," Albert decided, gathering up the clothes that he had previously tossed away. At his father's questioning glance, Brian shook his head.

"I'll walk back with David and Gilan," the boy said. "In case they need help."

Clapping his son's shoulder, Albert began moving, pausing for a moment to lean over to David. "He has to walk," the knight murmured against his ear. "I know you know that, but you'll want to carry him. Don't. Whatever it takes, but he has to walk." A feat that was easier said than done, considering the way that Gilan was currently leaning listlessly against his father, David's arms the only thing keeping him semi-upright.

David's face tightened, but he nodded, shifting Gilan so he was more or less standing. "I know."

"See you soon, then." Albert squeezed David's shoulder for a moment, before leaving at a run.

* * *

Gilan walked. There was prodding, shoving, coaxing, pleading, bribing, threatening... but Gilan somehow managed a stumbling gait back to the campground, David holding tightly to his arm the entire way. The Battlemaster flinched every time his son lost his footing, and Brian could see him fighting the instinctive urge to pick his son up so that Gilan wouldn't have to struggle so hard.

Gilan tripped again, his head lolling, and David paused for a moment to set him upright, Brian reaching for Gilan's other arm. Gilan's eyes were closed, his body boneless, and David felt a thread of alarm flow through him as he reached out to cup Gilan's cheek, giving his son a shake. "No, no, no sleeping yet. Gilly, wake up."

With this, David raised his hand, scrunching his eyes shut briefly before wrenching them open and slapping his son's cheek, hard. Brian winced, seeing how it killed David to do it, but it had the desired effect. Gilan blinked sluggishly, his eyes owl-like as he tried to focus on his father's face.

"There's my good boy," David said softly, and Brian didn't miss how the Battlemaster's voice broke slightly.

As the trio continued walked, several more slaps occurred, twin flashes of pain crossing both David and Gilan's faces each time. At one point, Brian had offered the coat he was wearing; Gilan surely needed it more than he did. To his surprise, David had adamantly refused.

"We don't need two freezing cold boys. You need it more than you think you do - don't forget that you were in the water too, even if you weren't fully submerged."

By the time the campsite finally came into view, a large fire crackling a welcome... Brian could have cried with relief, especially when his father and Edward hurriedly walked up to meet them, one armed with freshly warmed clothes and the other with an armful of thick blankets.

"Is he doing all right, sir?" Edward asked with genuine concern as he stared worriedly at Gilan.

David nodded, cinching Gilan a little closer against his side as he tucked one of the blankets around him. "He's getting there. He finally started shivering a bit better - he's trying to warm himself up more."

"Dad... I'm tired." The quiet whisper was barely audible, but David reacted instantly, leaning down and huffing out a laugh of relief as he again tested Gilan's cheek, noting the smidge of warmth that had begun to creep back in.

"I bet you are. I think you can rest for a bit," the Battlemaster decided, steering them both towards the large fire and lowering Gilan onto a bedroll. Accepting the clothes that Albert passed to him, the Battlemaster quickly redressed his son, then took the bowl of stew that another one of the knights offered him.

Brian redressed himself as well, relishing the new warmth of the fresh clothes, the large fire, and the hearty stew that his father had instructed him to eat. Across from him, David had settled Gilan against his chest with a thick blanket bundled over the two of them, Gilan unconsciously leaning into his father's warmth. David was alternating between rubbing Gilan's limbs and offering him bites of stew, as Gilan's hands were still trembling too hard to mange something as intricate as an eating utensil. Brian's expression turned downcast, and he nodded toward the younger boy, whose head was drooping as he lost the fight with sleep.

"I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't strong enough to pull him out. If I had been, he wouldn't have been in the water for so long, and he wouldn't be in such bad shape."

David, who had been frowning slightly at the half eaten bowl of stew, looked up and blinked. "Brian, you have nothing to apologize for. You stayed with Gilan, kept him calm, and kept him afloat. You called for help. You have my utmost gratitude. As for him being in bad shape... he's fine. His color is better already."

Indeed, Gilan's sleeping face was dotted with a solid blush; a far cry from the pallid grey it had been when he had first been fished out of the water. Brian's face smoothed, his shoulders seeming to get lighten as an invisible burden was lifted off of them at the Battlemaster's words. "Thank you, sir."

Albert, who had been finishing securing the camp for the night, approached the fire, tossing an easygoing grin to David before giving Brian a gentle shake. "You should get some rest, son."

Brian nodded, climbing to his feet wearily - he hadn't realized how tired he felt until his father had mentioned sleep. "Goodnight, Sir David," the boy said with a small smile as he saluted his goodbye. "I'm glad Gilan's all right."

"I'll be there in a moment," Albert called after his son. David watched the boy go with a wave of approval. He liked Brian, and had always appreciated his maturity and kindness to Gilan.

"He's a good boy," David said quietly, and a bright glimmer of pride graced Albert's face.

"Thank you, sir. I think so, too." Reaching over to ruffle Gilan's hair, Albert then stood and inclined his head. "Sleep well, sir." With that, Albert turned on his heel and walked off.

Now alone, David hoisted his boy into a slightly more comfortable position in his lap. Gilan's hair tickled his chin, and David felt a strange sense of déjà vu from when a much younger Gilan would sit in his lap as David read stories to him... something that hadn't happened nearly often enough due to his busy position, the Battlemaster thought with a sharp stab of regret, and found himself abruptly wishing that children didn't grow up so quickly.

Gilan shifted, and David exhaled, pressing his lips onto his son's head for a moment. "Troublesome lad," he said finally, fondly tousling the blonde hair before settling into a better position to sleep.

"Goodnight, my sweet boy."

And as he closed his eyes, the knight swore he heard a murmured, "G'night, Dad..."

David smiled.

* * *

**Brian sort of just happened, and he ended up growing on me. I know OCs aren't everyone's piece of cake, but it was interesting writing a different voice/POV. I've always been keen on writing a story solely from an outsider POV... any ideas on what type of plot you think that would be interesting to see?**

**Reviews are loved.**

**-TrustTheCloak**


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